Inheritance
by Aelan Greenleaf
Summary: William T. Riker is happy: he has a wonderful family and is the captain of one of best ships in the fleet. However, a decision made over twenty years ago has consequences for him now as a young, eager, and strangely familiar ensign comes aboard the Titan.
1. Choices

**Author's note:** Clearly, this story is not canon, there's no way it could be. However, the episode _Conundrum_ has always bothered me. Was there absolutely no fall-out from Will and Ro's tryst? It was never mentioned or even alluded to again, and I thought that it was an area far too ripe for expanding upon that I just _had_ to write something about it. All events from the TV show and the films are still canon for all main characters except for Ro Laren. Nothing of this is mine, it's all Gene's.

**2368**

Ensign Ro Laren was nervous.

Actually, to say she was nervous was an understatement – she was just about, almost, practically _scared_. Though she'd never even admit it to herself, she hadn't felt this nervous in a long time, probably not since she ran away from the refugee camp on Bajor in her youth.

She wasn't looking forward to facing Captain Picard, sitting down across from him and telling him that she was leaving. It would be tantamount to throwing back into his face all the support he'd given her, as well as having the trust she had finally built up suddenly and painfully torn away. It had to be done, though; this meeting could not be avoided any longer. She'd made her decision, _finally_, last night, unable to sleep yet again for what seemed like the hundredth night in a row. Laren had known that there were only two options available to her: stay on the _Enterprise _and deal with the fallout, or leave the ship, possibly to go back to Bajor (if the rumours of a possible Cardassian withdrawal were true).

As much as she would love to stay on the _Enterprise_, she knew that she didn't want to deal with the consequences of that decision. Staying would eventually draw stares, comments, and ultimately questions, questions she didn't want to answer, especially coming from one certain Commander. "_Have you seen Ensign Ro?"_, they would whisper, heads bowed over drinks in Ten Forward, "_Do you think the rumours are true?"_ No, she couldn't, and wouldn't, face such gossip and scuttlebutt, and so she had decided that she would leave now, before it became too late.

She knew it was completely and utterly unfair to him that she was leaving without telling him anything. It was morally wrong, and she knew it, but she didn't want to face him and tell him what had happened, what the consequences were of their actions. There was nothing between them, nothing but a few stolen days of misdirected passion, enabled by the loss of their memories, as well as the loss of their inhibitions.

_Laren pushed him back against the couch, sliding her body into his lap, all while keeping her lips pressed firmly against his. He answered back just as passionately, meeting her kiss with his open mouth and willing tongue. He stood suddenly, lifting her into his arms, never breaking their oral embrace as he carried her over to the bed, laying her down on the –_

Laren buried her head in hands as the memories rushed back to her, unbidden and unwanted. She couldn't deny that she had enjoyed her time with him, but it wasn't real and there were no deeper emotions or meaning behind their actions. It was only lust and the mystery of the unknown that had brought them together, nothing else.

She stood suddenly, feeling the tension of her impending meeting hit her and making her muscles spasm with nervous energy. Yes, she knew she should tell Commander Riker about her "situation". Yes, she knew he was entitled to his say in the matter. And yes, she knew that by leaving without telling him anything she was denying him some of his basic rights, and yet, she still couldn't bring herself to tell him. What if he wanted her to stay? What if he was angry? What if he wanted her to take care of it? She didn't want to know what he would do if she told him, and for that reason, she decided not to tell him at all.

The computer chimed at her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. 13h00 had rolled around, and it was time for her to meet her fate. Ro Laren took a deep breath before striding over to the door and exiting her cabin, before heading up to the Captain's Ready Room in order to inform her commanding officer of her intention to resign her commission and leave the ship. If he approved her request (which she hoped he eventually would), she would leave on the next shuttle, already scheduled to depart for a routine meeting on Starbase 86 in two days' time. And if all went well, if she didn't make any mistakes or give anything away, she would be able to leave the _Enterprise _without ever letting anyone know she was pregnant. If everything went according to plan, she would be able to leave and to not have to tell Commander William T. Riker that he was going to be the father of her unborn son.

**2390**

Captain William T. Riker was tired.

It had been a long four days on Earth, running around across San Francisco, making his way to meetings over at Starfleet Command and presenting guest lectures at the Academy. He'd even found the time, somehow, head over to Europe and pick up some Belgian and Swiss chocolate that Deanna had been asking about. He smiled to himself as he thought of his beautiful wife, patiently awaiting the return of her husband (and his precious chocolate cargo) to the _Titan_.

He'd finally finished his last lecture for a class of third year cadets over an hour ago, and had only now boarded the shuttle that would take him back up to Utopia Planitia, where the _Titan _had been undergoing some much needed repairs and upgrades. Ten years out in the expanses of space had taken their toll on his ship, and he had brought her in for some much needed mechanical love and care. His crew too, had been more than happy for a couple days of leave, and he'd let most of them go down, leaving Deanna in charge in his absence.

But four days away, even four days away on Earth, had been enough for him, and he was more than willing to return to his home. It seemed though, that the universe wasn't going to let him go back right away, first throwing a late last-minute conference meeting at him this afternoon, followed by some sort of transport delay, forcing him and his pilot to wait in the Earth's orbit while the base tried to rectify some sort of airlock malfunction that prohibited any incoming transports or shuttles to dock.

Will leaned forward, trying to catch his pilot's attention: "Ensign, have you received any word from the base yet on the ETA of their repairs?"

His pilot turned around in his seat and grimaced. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry to say that'll it'll be about another hour. I can take you back down to Earth if you like."

Will shook his head. "No, that's fine; by the time we got back down and landed, we'd be headed right back up here. Let's just stay put for now." He stood, stretching his arms outward and straightening his back. If he was going to be waiting up here for an hour, he was damn sure he'd make the time pass quickly. Striding to the front of the cabin, Will took the co-pilot's seat, stretching his legs out underneath the console.

"So, Ensign, how long have you been ferrying aging Captains and Admirals such as myself?"

The Ensign laughed and quickly adjusted several of the controls before answering his superior officer. "Not long, sir, I only graduated from the Academy this year. I'm waiting to head out on assignment to the _Mandela_."

Will nodded, impressed with the young man's future attachment to such a well-respected diplomatic ship. "So you're in the diplomatic corps then? See a future in mediating conflicts, peace-keeping, all that?"

Again, the Ensign chuckled, remarking the Captain's effortless ability to simultaneously participate in a conversion and conduct an interview. "Yes, I'm hoping to eventually get my own command of a diplomatic corps ship one day, it's been my dream since I was a child," he answered, turning from the controls to face his superior. "I've grown up witnessing the many facets of diplomacy, and I've wanted to make my own mark in it ever since I can remember."

Will had a better view of the young man now, and he noticed the faint ridges along the Ensign's nose, horizontal stripes lining the bridge between his eyes. "You're Bajoran," Will acknowledged, gesturing towards the indentations on the young man's face, "you've probably seen it all growing up there."

"Half-Bajoran," the Ensign corrected gently, "and yes, you could definitely say that." The men shared a smile at that. "My mother was very involved in the struggles and challenges that came after the end of the Occupation, so I've seen it all, it seems."

The Ensign readjusted his position in his seat and met the Captain's gaze. "Actually, she served on the _Enterprise_, before I was born. She resigned her commission before she had me."

"Really? I probably knew her, not like there were many Bajorans in Starfleet back then. What's her name?" Will asked, intrigued.

"Ensign Ro, Ro Laren," the young man replied. "I think she served as a bridge officer? I'm sorry sir, I'm not quite sure, she rarely talked about her days in Starfleet at all; in fact, she wasn't very pleased when I told her that I would be attending the Academy."

Will abruptly found himself tumbling back into memories, memories made almost two decades ago. _He pushed her hair behind her ears as his hands gripped her face, bringing his lips down to touch on her mouth, and as he continued to migrate south, her neck, her collarbone, her –_

"Captain?" inquired the young Ensign, yanking Will out of his reverie, "are you alright?"

Will cleared his throat, and attempted a smile. "I'm fine, Ensign, just lost in memories. Of course I knew your mother; she was a good pilot and a good officer. I had no idea she'd gotten married and had a family though," he said, frowning as he realized how little he knew after Ro Laren's life after the _Enterprise_.

"Oh, my mother's not married, sir, it's only ever been me and her. I think she likes it that way," he said, chuckling. "I think she's a little too headstrong to keep anyone around for long enough to get married." A beep sounded from the console, and the Ensign turned to look at the message. "Good news, sir, the airlocks on one side of the base have been repaired; we've been cleared for priority docking, so we should have you aboard within five minutes."

"Good," replied Will absentmindedly. He wasn't listening, not completely anyway, to what the Ensign had been saying. He was still strangely shocked to learn that Ro had a son, let alone a twenty year-old Academy graduate for a son. Even Will's oldest daughter was only nine years old, so it was amazing that Ro had settled down so quickly after leaving the _Enterprise_. She had been so independent, so autonomous that it seemed surprising that she had had a child so quickly and at such a young age.

Now that he looked at the Ensign, _really_ looked at him, he could see Ro Laren reflected in his features. It was everywhere, from the arch in his eyebrows, the dark hair, the confident twinkle in his blue eyes. He must really be Ro's son, Will concluded, still somewhat taken aback by this sudden turn of events.

The sound of the airlock pressurizing brought his thoughts back to the present, and he hauled himself up to his feet. The Ensign was already moving, verifying airlock controls before authorizing their release and opening up the shuttle to the base beyond.

Will grabbed his bags from the storage compartment, and made his way to the back of the shuttle. Standing next to the Ensign, he realized with a start that they were practically the same height. He met the young man's blue eyes yet again, and smiled at him. "Thanks again for the ride, Ensign. It was nice to have you to talk to. Say hello to your mother for me when you speak to her again."

Will extended his hand to his pilot, and felt the young man meet him with a firm grasp of his own. "My pleasure, Captain Riker, and I'll let her know that you send your greetings."

The captain moved to turn away, but stopped, and looked back at the ensign. There was something about this young man, something that Will couldn't quite put his finger on. "You know son, I realize you've made plans for the _Mandela_, but if you ever wanted to try your hand at deep space exploration, the _Titan_ could certainly use a man like you aboard."

The ensign grinned, his eyes dancing with gratitude. "Thank you, sir. I'll definitely keep that in mind, I'd love to be able to serve on a ship as fine as the _Titan_. I hear she has a fine captain and crew," he said, a hint of mirth in his tone.

Will laughed, pointing a finger in mock admonishment as he turned to leave. "The _best_ captain and crew," he corrected, "and don't you forget it!"

Both men turned then, going their separate ways. But as Will Riker walked away from the shuttle, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. He looked back over his shoulder, one last time, to the now closed airlock and the young ensign in the shuttle beyond. What was he missing?

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. _I'm just tired, that's all_, he thought to himself. It was time to get back aboard his ship, say hello to his wife and daughters, and settle down for a nice, long, well-deserved nap.

With that, Captain William T. Riker unwittingly bid goodbye to the son he had never met, and went back to the family he had always known.


	2. Illness

**Author's note: Okay, I've got some ideas for this story - however, it will mostly take place as a series of vignettes, ranging in POV from Ro, to her son, and to Will. Hope you like it!**

**2370**

Ro Laren was scared.

Actually, scared was an understatement. She was frightened beyond belief; she was totally and completely terrified. She'd been tracked ruthlessly by Cardassians, shot at by Romulans, and tangled more than once with Klingon warriors, but she'd never been this anxious in her life.

She looked down at the sleeping bundle in her arms, and gently touched one the many small red marks blemishing his otherwise perfect skin. He'd gotten sick three days ago, the angry crimson welts first appearing on his back, then his stomach, and finally now on his face. She'd gone to see the doctors in her village, and then in the provincial capital, but to no avail – no one seemed to know what was wrong with her son.

Finally, a friend had suggested taking a transport shuttle up to the now-Federation controlled Deep Space Nine station, where the Starfleet doctors might be able to determine what was now afflicting her poor little boy.

She continued to gaze down at him, humming to him softly even though he slept. He was now nine months old, already showing signs of a bright and bubbly personality, always laughing and smiling and playing. His blue eyes hadn't faded with age, and were a now permanent reminder of who his father was (like she really needed any reminding!). Ro hadn't been prepared for the amount of love and devotion she felt for her son, the instantaneous connection she'd established with him when she first held him in her arms. She'd been anxious throughout her pregnancy, unsure if she would keep him or if she would give him up to a Bajoran family back on her homeworld. For a while, she'd flirted with the idea of giving him up; she would have been able to quietly re-enlist in Starfleet and pursue her career while avoiding disclosing why she'd left for nearly a year. She would have been able to put the whole incident behind her, putting away for good the consequences of the mistakes she'd made when she had lost her memories.

That all changed the moment her son was born.

When the midwife placed the newborn in her arms, she knew she was defeated. Holding him, touching him, watching him open his eyes for the first time, she knew she could never let her son go. Nothing else mattered – not Starfleet, not her career, not even the fact that she was alone – her son was here, and that was all that mattered now.

She still remembered when she'd first learnt that she was pregnant. She'd been feeling nauseous for several days, as well as having strange and vivid nightmares at night. Finally, she'd gone to see Dr. Crusher, hoping to solve the mystery of why her body had suddenly decided to turn on her. She would have _never_ anticipated the results; she would have never of thought it possible. How could she be pregnant?

Dr. Crusher had pulled her aside and delivered the news to her in private. Through the haze of shock that had overcome her, Ro listened as the doctor explained that the paired symptoms of nausea and nightmares were due to the combination of human and Bajoran DNA, and that there would likely be a few other minor complications due to the hybrid nature of the foetus. Ro had finally tuned in, though, when Beverly mentioned the identity of the father.

"_Ro, I know who the father is – when I ran the tests on you and saw that you were pregnant, I did genetic testing on the foetus to determine if there were any chromosomal defects due the combination of DNA from two different species. However, I take my oath to doctor-patient confidentiality very seriously, and if you wish, I can delete any record of my tests on you today from both your record and my files._"

_Ro looked up at the auburn-haired doctor, and offered a very weak smile. "Thank you, Dr. Crusher. That- that would be good._"

_The doctor nodded, though still clearly troubled. "I hate to say it, Ro, but the _Enterprise _isn't really a big place – word somehow always gets out. If you don't want him to find out, you don't have much time," Beverly said, leaning forward and gently taking one of Ro's hands, "I'm here for you no matter what you decide; that's a promise."_

_Still in shock, all Ro Laren could do was nod._

True to form and to her word, Dr. Crusher hadn't told a soul what she knew, and in the process potentially hurting one of her close friends. Ro recognized the immense sacrifice the doctor was making in refraining from informing Commander Riker of what she knew, and for that, Ro was eternally grateful. She had briefly considered sending a message to the _Enterprise_ to consult the doctor on whatever was ailing her son, but she had decided that the old adage of "out of sight, out of mind" was probably for the best. The less Dr. Crusher thought about Ro Laren and her secret, the less likely that secret would become public knowledge.

Her son stirred in her arms, but continued to sleep. For this, Ro was very glad, as when he was awake the welts on his body seemed to irritate him so much that he would scratch at them until they bled, making him cry even harder. She hoped that the doctors on the station would be able to solve the mystery of what was wrong with her son.

She looked out the porthole of the small shuttle and watched as they climbed higher and higher out of the atmosphere, finally escaping out into the vast darkness of space. Somewhere, out in that myriad of stars, the _Enterprise_ was there, out on its mission, meeting new races and discovering new phenomenon. And it wasn't often that she missed it, missed the exploration and the discoveries and the adventures, but for a brief moment, she felt her heart pang with a future that might have been.

The captain's voice sounded out over the communication system, and Ro was returned back to reality. "Attention passengers, we have been given permission to dock at Deep Space Nine. Please remain seated until the hatch is opened. Thank you."

At this, her son woke up, stretching out his arms and waving them beside his sides. Ro smiled down at him, and got a wide grin in return, his crystal blue eyes reflecting the joy of waking up held snugly in his mother's arms.

"I guess we're here," she said to him, moving to secure him in the traditional _pelori_ carrier she had brought. Securing him into the straps, she put him across her chest with his face forward, so that he could see the station and so that she had her arms free to navigate.

The shuttle shuddered to a stop as the docking clamps took hold, and with the characteristic _swoosh_ of pressurization, the door to the station rolled open, providing Ro with her first view of the station. She had never been here before; when she had left Starfleet, Deep Space Nine had still been called Terok Nor, a station built by Bajoran slave labour for their Cardassian masters. Now it had seemingly shrugged off its controversial past to become a beacon for the Federation, standing guard to the doorway to the Gamma Quadrant.

She stepped onboard and made her way down the hall and onto the promenade. There were people everywhere, and of all races: humans, Bajorans, Ferengi, Klingon – so many different faces all milling about, jostling each other while trying to buy and sell their wares. She slid between them, one hand in front of her and one hand on her son, keeping him safe while she guided them through the crowd to the infirmary.

"Hello?" she called out, craning her head to see if there was a doctor or a nurse around the corner.

"Coming!" called out a disembodied voice, seemingly coming from the next room. A young man popped out from around the corner, dressed in a standard Starfleet uniform, albeit one with the greenish-blue of the sciences/medical division. He smiled at her as he approached, smoothing over his uniform with his free hand as he extended one to her. "Dr. Julian Bashir. What can I do for you, Miss...?"

She took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Ro Laren, Doctor, and I need you to help my son," she implored, laying her other hand onto her baby's soft head.

Dr. Bashir looked down at the boy and smiled at him. "Well hello there," he said, reaching out a finger to "shake" the boy's hand, "a pleasure to meet you as well!" At that, the young doctor made a face at the baby, causing the boy to giggle, bouncing up and down in the _pelori_. Despite herself, Ro couldn't help but smile as well.

"Let's take a look at him, shall we?" suggested Bashir, gesturing for Ro to follow him into the main examination room. Once inside, she unstrapped her son from the carrier and handed him over to the waiting doctor. Immediately, Ro was impressed with the young medical professional, as he smiled and laughed with her baby, taking care to keep the boy happy while making his observations of the red welts across her son's face and body. He quickly finished his examination and handed the giggling child back to his mother.

"Your son is half-human," said the doctor, and somehow Ro knew it wasn't a question.

"How did you know?" she answered, shocked that he'd been able to tell just from a physical examination. Her son looked exactly like every other Bajoran child; due to the dominant nature of his Bajoran genes, the majority of people would never know that his father was human.

The doctor stood across from her, shifting his gaze from the boy in her arms to meeting her in the eyes. "Don't worry, Miss Ro, I don't have superpowers, I just recognized the illness he had. An illness, in fact, that happens to be exclusive to humans."

Her breath caught in her throat. "So you know what's wrong with him?" she said, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

He nodded. "Indeed I do. Your son has the chicken pox."

"The chicken pox? Isn't the chicken some sort of avian creature on Earth? Did my son catch a bird disease?" she asked, concerned.

At that, the young doctor laughed. "No, no, nothing like that. The chicken pox is a viral infection, once very common among human children on Earth. It's been mostly eradicated on Earth and its larger colonies; however, out in the colonies settled by late 21st century and early 22nd century expeditions, the infection still makes it rounds now and then. Your son has his human genes to thank for this."

"Will he be alright then? Can it be cured?"

Bashir moved across the room and picked up a hypospray, calibrated it, and moved back to mother and child. "The virus needs to run out its course, but I can negate the effects so that the irritation and welts will heal." He held the hypospray to her son's neck and gently pressed it against his skin. Ro looked down to see if the baby would cry, but he seemed unaffected, won over by the young doctor's charm.

Ro met the doctor's gaze as a feeling of relief washed over her. "Thank you, Doctor Bashir. I had no idea what to do; no one on Bajor seemed to know what was wrong."

He smiled at her, and she too felt herself becoming won over by his warm attitude and approachable nature. "No, I suppose they wouldn't have known; I suspect some human doctors wouldn't recognize it either. At any rate, his symptoms should clear up by the end of the day; if you have any problems don't hesitate to come back."

"Thank you," Ro said, and she meant it with all her heart. She strapped her son back into the _pylori _and moved towards the door, all the while keeping one of his tiny hands enveloped in hers.

"You're welcome, Ensign," replied the doctor, and Ro stopped in her tracks.

She turned to him, taken aback by his recognition of her.

He shrugged, knowing the question she was about to ask. "I read a medical report about two _Enterprise_ crewmen being "phased" by an experimental Romulan cloaking device. I knew it was you, but I had no idea you'd been pregnant when you had been phased. Your son has a lot of luck, Ensign. To survive that, before he was even born..."

"I'm not an Ensign anymore, Doctor. And that was a long time ago, a different life. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that I –we- had been here.

"Of course, Miss Ro, I would never break doctor-patient confidentiality."

She nodded her thanks, and turned to leave.

"Wait!" he called out, moving towards her before she disappeared back into the throngs of the Promenade. "What's your son's name?" he asked, more curious now than ever.

She paused a moment, wondering if it would change anything if she told him. "It's Thomas," she murmured, running a hand over her son's unruly brown hair, "Ro Thomas."

With that, Ro Laren turned and took her absence, becoming just another member of the Promenade's busy crowd.


	3. Loss

**2378**

Ro Thomas was enthralled.

Every night, as long was it wasn't raining too hard or snowing too much, he would sneak out through his window, sit down on the ground, and stare up at the stars. He had being doing it for a long, long time – ever since he'd figured out how to unlatch his bedroom window and shimmy his way through to the world beyond his room.

It had started (for the most part) with an offhand comment his mother had uttered one afternoon when she'd caught him, at the tender age of four, trying to scale the immense _Euritpiclaus_ tree in park across from their home. "...just like him," he'd heard her murmur as she half led him, half dragged him back home.

"Like who, mama?" he'd asked, curious about this mysterious "him" who, apparently, also like to climb trees.

She looked down at him, clearly surprised that he'd heard her. She paused a moment, caught in an internalized debate, then answered him. "Your father," she answered bluntly, uncertain of what else to say.

At that, her son lit up, and he dragged his heels until they both stopped moving. "Papa climbed trees too?" he asked, his bright blue eyes gleaming with hope. He was too young, far too young to notice the hesitation in his mother's eyes, the uncertainty. Ro Laren really didn't know much at all about her son's father, aside from a childhood spent in a remote part of Earth's Northern Hemisphere and a love of jazz music. Looking down into Thomas' innocent and naive eyes, she made a decision. "Yes, he climbed trees too," she answered, supposing that it was more than likely to be true. "But he never climbed higher than the second branch," she added, lying through her teeth and hoping that that would keep him to the lower branches and thereby improve the chances of him surviving his childhood intact.

Thomas nodded enthusiastically, as if this bit of news was the most important thing he'd ever heard. "Papa climbed trees, too," he murmured to himself, as he and his mother recommenced their walk back to the house.

As they moved to go inside, he stopped his mother again, tugging on her hand until she sighed and looked down at him. "Yes?" she asked, arching on eyebrow at him in part-resignation, part-amusement.

"Why did Papa climb trees?"

She didn't even hesitate with her response; she knew enough about Will Riker to answer that. "He climbed the trees to try and see the stars."

Every night since then, Ro Thomas had snuck outside at night to watch the stars and dream of a man he had never seen. And every night since then, Ro Laren had silently stood at the window in her son's room, and watched him carefully, lovingly (if not slightly sadly) as he searched the cosmos for a man he'd never known.

**2390**

Ro Thomas was numb.

He'd been sitting at his desk, staring at the communiqué for his entire life. Stars had been born, planets had formed, stars had collapsed, and planets had died – and yet he didn't move. At least that was what it felt like. It felt like he existed outside of normal time, like a stranger looking into the front window of a home, wondering what it was like inside. Time slipped by, then froze, then sped up again – he couldn't seem to stop himself, spinning in temporal circles, sliding from memory to memory, spanning his whole lifetime.

_He was five, and he'd accidentally broken his favourite toy by playing with it too hard. She'd come to him, picked up the pieces, and then brought it back moments later, magically reassembled back together again. Through his tears he'd smiled up at her, and she grinned back_.

_He was fifteen, and she'd caught him trying to sneak a girl back into the house with him. Instead of losing her temper at both of them, she'd given the girl something to drink, called her parents to take her home, and then grounded Thomas for the next year all while muttering "_...what else did I expect? He is his son..."

_He was twenty, and he saw his mother's face in the crowd as he accepted his formal enlistment in Starfleet. He could have sworn, for the first time in his life, that he'd seen a tear slide down her cheek as she smiled at him from afar. _

"Stop it," he whispered to himself, willing his own mind to stop the torturous memories. But they all came flooding back to him, unbidden, unwanted. Birthdays and holidays and fights and hugs and always through it all, through everything good and bad, love. She was the first person he'd know, the first person he'd looked up to, the first person he'd fought with. She was the woman who'd taught him to read, who'd taught him how to defend himself (both mentally and physically), and who'd taught him how to always stand up for what he believed was right. She was his mother, his caregiver, his home.

And now she was gone.

He'd come in from work, a little late after a last-minute shuttle run for Rear-Admiral Janeway from San Francisco to the _Appalachian, _which was in Earth orbit for a couple of days. She'd apologized for the lateness of the hour, but he'd dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand, telling her that it was his pleasure to be able to transport a Starfleet legend like her.

He wished now that that shuttle run had lasted forever. He wished that he'd never left work, never walked home to his apartment, never taken off his uniform jacket, and never checked his messages on his comstation. It wouldn't have changed anything, but at least then the universe would still be right for a little while longer.

It was then that it all hit him. And it hit him hard. He could feel the tension building behind his nose, the swelling of tears in his eyes, the slight twitching of his mouth as he fought the impulse with everything he had. But the more he fought it, the more he thought about it, and the worse it got. Finally, everything overwhelmed him in an instant, and he collapsed into a sniffling, sobbing heap onto his comstation, his anguish reverberating within the small room.

Time passed him by again, and it was hours (or maybe just seconds) later that he finally lifted his head again, roused by the sound of the door chime. He had tried to ignore it, but whoever who calling on him was insistent and would not go away. He pushed himself up from the desk, and reluctantly strode over to the door, not even bothering to fix his appearance or clean himself up. That sort of thing didn't matter anymore.

He didn't even ask who it was at the door; he just opened it without a second thought. Maybe he'd be lucky enough and it would be someone out for his guts, someone with a vendetta, although Prophets would know why. He'd welcome his fate, blissfully escaping the emotional hell that had overtaken his thoughts, his body, his soul...

"Thomas?" stated the figure in front of him, and he blinked against the light (was it morning already?). The woman standing before him was fairly tall and willowy, a soft smile set upon her face as the light reflected off of her greying auburn curls.

"Yes?" he said, or attempted to say. It came out as more of a half-croak, with some random consonants thrown in for good measure.

Her eyes met his bloodshot ones, and the pain emanating off of him was tangible in the morning air. "I'm Doctor Beverly Crusher. I don't know if you remember me or not, but I was a friend of your mother's. May I come in?"

He stared blankly at her for a moment, then shrugged and moved to one aside. "Why not," he said, gesturing towards the interior with his arm. She stepped past him, and slipped off her regulation boots in order to follow him when he moved to the kitchen table and slumped down into a chair.

Silently, she pulled out a chair opposite from him and sat down. She couldn't help but stare at the young man, taking in every familiar aspect of him. The ridges on his nose, the angular cheekbones – those he had inherited from his mother. But everything else – his tall stature, long legs, chestnut brown hair, and most all, those deep blue eyes – came from his father.

He looked up at her then, and seemed to really only see her for the first time. "I'm sorry, Dr. Crusher, I don't mean to be so rude. It's just-"

She waved a hand to stop him. "Don't worry, Thomas, I know what's happened. And I'm so sorry," she said, the last part coming out only as a whisper. As a doctor, she'd had to deliver bad news countless times before, but it never got any easier watching someone deal with the emotional fallout of a loved one's death.

He nodded, seemingly in thanks, and took a moment to compose himself again. She watched as he steadied his hands against the table, and suddenly the pain in his eyes dimmed, pushed back to a different part of his mind, put aside until there was a time and place to deal with it appropriately. Once again, she observed the traits of his father come innately to this young man.

He cleared his throat, and spoke again, stronger and more confidently than before. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

"Actually, it's more of what I can do for you," she said, and she watched as a confusion flashed within his eyes. "Your mother asked me, a very long time ago, to check in on you if anything ever happened to her."

This time the confusion was readily apparent throughout the look on his face. "You? But I've never even met you before, why would she-" At that, he paused, and he leaned forward to scrutinize the doctor more closely. "Wait, I have seen you before!" he exclaimed, "when I was sick as child. It was when the Cardassians took back Deep Space Nine during the Dominion War, and she couldn't find a human doctor, so she called you." Full recognition of her now flickered across his features, and he sat up in his chair, his posture suddenly (subconsciously?) corrected as he realized who she was. "You're Admiral Picard's wife."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "Indeed I am. But before I was an Admiral's wife, I was your mother's physician aboard the _Enterprise_. I took care of you before you were born. From what I know about your mother, she didn't trust people easily, but she knew she could trust me. I think that's why she asked me to do this, all those years ago."

"So that's it, then? She sent you to make sure I was okay?" he stood up then, roughly pushing the chair away from the table as he started to pace the length of the kitchen. "I mean, I'm not ten years old, I can handle this. I don't need an emotional babysitter – no offense, Doctor," he said, looking back apologetically at the woman still seated at the table.

"None taken."

"But it doesn't change anything," he mumbled, and Beverly knew now that he wasn't talking to her anymore. "I'm still here. And I'm still supposed to be going out on the _Mandela_ in two weeks. To do what, though? Mediate disputes? Ferry around Starfleet ambassadors? Follow strict diplomatic protocol? Well screw that," he fumed, as he paced even more quickly around the kitchen.

She sat silently, just waiting.

"No, no I'm going to stay around here and resolve differences over stolen artefacts and political disagreements. I've gotta get out of here, I've gotta –" He stopped moving then, and looked back to the doctor sitting at his table. "I'm leaving, Doctor," he stated firmly, leaning his long arms onto the back of the chair he'd shoved away moments earlier.

"Right now?" she asked, concerned.

"No, not now. In two weeks. But not on the _Mandela_. I need to get out of here, get out into the unknown. I had another offer, on one of the _Luna_-class explorers. I want to go away from Earth, from the Federation for a while. I think it'll be good for me," he said, though she wasn't entirely sure if he was speaking to her or just to himself.

His eyes met hers, and familiarity rushed over her once more (the resemblance was uncanny...). "Thank you, Dr. Crusher, for coming to see me. I really appreciate the time you took to come out here to check up on me. But I'm fine. I mean, I will be fine – as soon as I get out there, out into the stars."

Dr. Beverly Crusher was wholeheartedly not convinced that this young man was "fine", but she couldn't force him to talk to her or even to let her stay. She stood up from the table and made her way back to the door and to her boots. "It was very nice meeting you – again- Thomas. But please, if you ever need anything – someone to talk to, whatever – please don't hesitate to contact me." She took one of his hands in hers and held it tight. "I know what it's like to lose a loved one, believe me. I'm here for you if you need me."

He nodded, closing his eyes briefly to once more stem the flow of tears before they started again. "Thank you doctor, I promise I will."

"Goodbye, then, Thomas," she said softly, and impulsively drew the young man in for a hug. He stiffened against her initially, but soon relaxed and hugged her right back, all the pain and the tension he'd accumulated since coming home releasing as another human being held him tight. They parted after a moment, and the doctor waved an admonishing finger at him. "I mean it, Ensign Ro; your mother gave me a very important task, and I intend to complete it. Call me whenever, wherever you are – I'm here for you."

"Thanks," he said softly, and he walked with her through the door.

She stepped down onto the landing, and tapped the combadge on her chest. "Crusher to Starfleet Medical."

A disembodied voice floated through the air. "Go ahead."

"One to beam up."

"Standby."

As she stood waiting to be beamed back to her office, she realized that she hadn't asked the young ensign where he would be going after all. "Which _Luna_-class ship will you be serving on, Ensign Ro?" she asked, hoping she'd hear the answer before the beam-up initialized.

"The _Titan_," he answered, and he lit up slightly at the mention of the legendary exploratory ship. "Under Captain Riker."

Beverly's heart dropped into her stomach in shock, but before she could ask her next question, the beam initialized around her, her body dematerialized, and Ro Thomas was left standing on his landing alone.


	4. Beginnings

He knows he'll always remember, with vivid clarity, the first time he sets foot on a starship.

Fine, it could be argued that he had been on one before, he supposed. His mother was fond of reminding him that he had taken his very first shuttle trip as a baby, up to the old Cardassian station to visit a Federation doctor, but really, that had been a simple transport ship, a round-trip ferry ride. And since then, of course, he'd been back to the station – once even for a school trip, where an eager young Starfleet ensign named Nog had given his class a tour through the auxiliary command centre.

In his (humble) opinion, none of these past experiences _really_ counted.

Today, though, today he was _finally_ getting his chance. His mother, insistent though she had been on persuading him out of his decision to join Starfleet (and boy, she could be persuasive), had pulled some strings and arranged for the _USS Everest_ to transport him to Earth. Thomas has been beyond thrilled when his mother had informed him of this, an olive branch gesture on her part to make up for her unflinching resistance to his lifelong career plans. Not that she suddenly wholeheartedly approved of his seemingly undying devotion to Starfleet, of course, it was just now that she accepted the inevitability of it.

"Be safe out there," she'd admonished, standing in front of him at the starport.

He had his back to the shuttle, taking one last look at the planet he'd always called home. "I will, Mom, I promise," he'd said, taking one of her hands into his.

"I can't believe I'm leaving Bajor," he stated, surprised at the sudden wave of sadness that struck him as he realized it might be years before he came back again. "It's everything I've ever known."

Something in his mother's eyes had shifted then, a subtle change that might have gone unnoticed in other company. She opened her mouth as if to say something, reconsidered, and fell silent once more.

"Mom?" Thomas asked, concerned. "What is it?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," she breathed, waving her hand dismissively.

But Thomas wasn't so keen to let it drop just like that. "Mom..."

"Your father is Terran," she blurted out, letting her hand fall from his as she angled herself away from his direct gaze. "I thought – I mean – I think it's your right to know that."

Thomas looked at her confusedly. It was no secret to him that he was half human; though his mother had never told him anything about his father, he had overheard enough conversations between his mother and his doctors, as well as had noticed enough differences between himself and the other Bajoran children that he'd long ago assumed he was part human.

"Mom, it's not like you really kept it a secret from me," he said to her, reaching out a hand and turning her shoulders back towards him. "I know I'm part human."

She shook her head as she turned back to him. "No, that's not it. I just wanted you to know that Earth is partially your home too," she said, meeting his gaze once more as she continued, softer now than before, "I wanted you to feel that you weren't leaving home, you were just going to another part of it. That way, you're never alone..."

She averted her eyes then, trying hard to avoid looking at her son, but Thomas had lived with her for far too long to ignore that manoeuvre. He caught her hand, took one look at the unshed tears in her eyes, and then drew her in for an embrace.

"I love you, Mom," he whispered, clasping his hands behind her back and breathing the scent of her clothes in one last time, one last effort to immortalize his mother within his mind's eye.

"I love you too, Thomas," she replied, even more softly. "Never forget that."

They stood there for several moments, mother and son frozen in time, holding each other close as they silently transitioned from one part of their lives to another. Over the com system a reminder to board the shuttle was announced, and Thomas gently backed out from within his mother's arms.

As he pulled away, he noticed that already the tears had disappeared, replaced by his mother's customary stoic gaze, unflinching and uncompromising. He couldn't help but smile at that.

"Bye," he said, raising a hand in farewell as he lifted with the other hand his single bag, backing up and turning towards the shuttle.

"Take care out there," she replied, waving back.

And with that, Thomas turned his attention fully to the attendant, handed in his ID badge, and prepared himself for the shuttle ride that would take him to the first starship that he had ever seen in his life.

* * *

Ro Thomas was ready.

In fact, he'd been ready for the past nine hours. He'd cleaned out his apartment, put his things in storage, arranged for a friend to take care of his plants, and packed up the two bags of belongings that would accompany him on the first real adventure of his life. He was more than happy to leave Earth behind, shrugging off the pain and the sadness that had been his constant companions since he'd been notified of his mother's death. He hadn't even attended the funeral – the traditional Bajoran death rituals were very strict about the time between death and burial, and so he'd been forced to grieve from afar, alone.

But all that was behind him none. He was about to embark on a brand new part of his life, plunging into the vast expanses of space, finally achieving a dream that he'd had since the age of five, when he'd decided climbing trees wasn't good enough; that'd if he'd really wanted to see the stars, he'd have to fly to them. And here he was, mere moments away from beaming aboard the _Titan_, yet all he could think about was his mother.

He wished he had gotten to actually say goodbye.

A sudden beep caused him to jump, jolting himself out of his reverie and back into reality. "Ensign Ro?" called out a disembodied voice, reaching out to him through his combadge.

"Go ahead," he answered.

"Prepare for transport."

He gathered his bags into his hands, and then replied: "Acknowledged."

A shimmering beam of light enveloped him then, and his skin began to tingle ever so slightly. As quickly as it had arrived the beam faded, and his eyes readjusted to find themselves in unfamiliar terrain. He blinked as he stepped off of the transporter pad, his vision adapting to the artificial light.

A young Ensign, barely older than he, was standing at the transporter controls. "Good morning, Ensign Ro, and welcome aboard the _Titan_," she said, grinning as she extended her hand to him. "I guess you're our newest addition on board."

He returned the smile as he took her hand and shook it. "I guess I am," he confirmed, taking a look around the transporter room. The sleek lines and hyper-efficient layout were miles more advanced than those of the older starship models that he'd trained on as a cadet. "Nice ship you've got here, Ensign..."

"Martin," she answered, "Isa Martin. Now, I guess I'll point you in the direction of your quarters, you'll want to set your bags down and take a look around before we get under way. Turn right out of this door, down the passageway to the turbolift and go down two decks. Your quarters are next to the botanical gardens."

"Thank you, Ensign Martin," he said with gratitude, hoisting his bags onto his shoulders and heading for the door.

"No problem, Ensign Ro," she replied, grinning. "Welcome aboard."

With that, Thomas strode forwards, out of the doors of the transporter room, and into his new life.


End file.
